


Whose Name He Did Not Know

by jiennyx



Category: Fire Emblem: Kakusei | Fire Emblem: Awakening
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Confused Lon'qu, Drunk Lon'qu (Mentioned), F!MU is horny, F/M, Hangover, His First Time-ish, Morning Sex, One Night Stands, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn in 2nd chapter, That turns into a one morning stand, temporary memory loss
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-01
Updated: 2017-05-02
Packaged: 2018-10-26 03:41:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,371
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10778835
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jiennyx/pseuds/jiennyx
Summary: What's worse than waking up with a killer headache?Waking up next to a woman you've never seen before.What's worse than that?You've no memory of what happened last night– if anything did happen.And even worse?She's determined to make up for the night you seem to have forgotten.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> What's worse than having no ideas for a new fanfic? Busting out a smutfic with 7k words. Ah, typical.

Lon'qu wasn't a man who scared easily, but he found his heart thrumming and his breaths speeding up when he woke up in a room that wasn't his own. The sun that glared in through the window didn't make his headache any better, and neither did the almost suffocating smell of lavenders that wafted through the air.

“Hmph…”

His eyes widened in alarm as he realised there was a woman– a _woman_ – sleeping by his side, her arm draped around his chest. His naked chest. Managing to suppress a scream, he squirmed, trying in vain to distance himself from this stranger that had seemingly found her way to his bed and managed to get in without him finding out.

Wait. This wasn't his bed at all, was it? His breathing hitched as he took in his surroundings: the bed was large, three people could probably fit in it. The comforter covering his body— he wriggled around for a bit before realising he was _utterly naked_ under it— felt like it was strangling him; there was a bedside table beside him, and he picked up a picture frame sitting on it.

There was the woman– the woman lying right next to him– and she had a huge smile plastered on her face, as if she had just come up with the greatest idea ever. He would've thought she was beautiful if he weren't so utterly terrified. She had her arm around some equally happy man in a suit– he looked important. Maybe he was some sort of businessman? He looked about the same age as him and had well-trimmed blue hair, as opposed to his wild mane. He swallowed guiltily, glancing at the woman beside him with unease. Was this man in the picture her boyfriend? Who was she, exactly?

_And just what on earth happened last night?_

Lon'qu racked his brain for something– anything– that could give him any clue as to why he was in some stranger's bed, and why they were both naked. Panic began to choke him; had he—? _No_. Surely not. But the longer he sat still there, the more scenarios began to present themselves to him. Perhaps she had somehow lured him into her room, drugged him, then slept with— oh gods, no. Perhaps she was merely in a drunken stupor when she undressed and lay down next to him? But then, why on earth was _he_ naked as well? The more he thought about it, the sicker his stomach got, and the fact that he could _feel_ her bare chest pressed against his side did not help matters.

He began to sweat. Just what exactly…

“Oh, you're up.”

He nearly jumped in surprise as her sleepy voice hit him, and he tried to sit up, although that did not sit well with his killer headache. He groaned, resting his head back against the pillow that was much too soft and fluffy for his taste. He heard her chuckle and he fought the urge to grimace.

“Best not exert yourself. I imagine that must be quite a headache.” She advised. Her tone was amused, playful even, although he did not share her casualness. He felt like throwing up.

When he still did not reply, she propped herself up on one elbow, gazing at him in concern. He averted her eyes nervously and busied himself by reading the titles of the books on her desk. Architecture. “Hey…,” she began, voice soft and warm, like a cup of hot chocolate on a wintry night– _too warm_ for someone he did not know– and still he did not turn to look at her, “you, um, don't look so fine. Do you want me to get a glass of water? I don't know why I didn't prepare one earlier, but I guess I had no idea you were going to have a killer hangover.”

His head snapped back to look at her, and even before he opened his mouth he already had taken note of her eyes. They were green. A brilliant, almost endless green. _Emerald_. They shone with a mild curiosity, faint yet still visible. Struggling to remember what he was going to say, he swallowed nervously when she raised a perfectly shaped eyebrow at him, accentuating her full lips with a modest upward quirk of her mouth. Who was this woman? She was gorgeous.

Wait. _What?_

“You,” he managed to stammer out, “…you said hangover? Was I drunk?” _Was_ he drunk? He didn't believe he had ever touched a glass of alcohol in his life, but…

She merely laughed, and he found himself listening intently to the carefree sound– not like the chiming of bells, nor chirping of birds; no, it was an uncaring sound, like the silent whisper wind would make as it breezed by a dying man. “I guess you were _that_ drunk, huh? Can't even remember a thing, poor you.”

He gritted his teeth. _Poor him?_ What was he, some sort of animal? “What…” He started. Well, tried to start. He didn't really know where to start. He felt like a newborn; he had no idea what was happening. Where was he? Who was this girl? Why was he here? And _what on earth happened last night?_

She began to stand up, holding the covers as if she were to throw them off, and he found himself grabbing onto her arm for dear life, even shutting his eyes so to spare himself the sight of her unclothed back, “Wait!”

During the few seconds of painfully awkward silence that passed, his senses, deprived of sight, began to focus on other things, like the soft sounds of birds chirping happily outside and the smoothness of her skin in his grip. Her skin was almost too soft, too pure, and he let go hesitantly. His rough-skinned hands belonged nowhere near her. “Um—” a nervous laugh, “are you okay? I can get you a glass of water, if you–”

“No, please,” he managed, his eyes still squeezed shut. He must've made a sight. “sit b-back down.” The bed drooped on his right slightly, slowly, as if she were doing it albeit hesitantly. “P-please tell me what happened. Last night. Exactly.”

_And please tell me who you are and why I am in your bed,_ he almost added.

“Oh,” came the stammered reply. “you… really were drunk. Like, shitfaced drunk. _That_ drunk? Gods.” He frowned, feeling the need to defend himself. “I… do not usually drink.” He did not actually drink. At all.

She laughed in reply, and hesitantly he opened his eyes to see her sitting next to him cross-legged, clutching the blanket to her chest. Her long hair was black, almost blacker than his, framing her face haphazardly, as though someone had ran his hands through them and watched them fall to her face. Her skin was tanned, as opposed to his pale skin. He had never seen this woman before. She was staring at him in genuine curiosity, as if trying to decipher a formula. He averted her emerald eyes that seemed to be trying to reach deep into him. “That's what Gaius said, you know.”

His ears perked up, and he almost sighed in relief at hearing a familiar name in this unknown territory. “Gaius?” What had that devil done to him this time?

She nodded. “He said you usually don't… that you actually don't drink.” He nodded in reply. She laughed again, and this time, he found the sound deliberately annoying. How dare she be so carefree while he was confused out of his head? “But that's not what I figured when I saw you at the party.”

_Party?_ What party? He didn't go to parties. He'd never even been invited to parties before. _Or had he_?

“What party–” he began to ask, but trailed off as an inkling of a memory found its way to his mind. He was at Gaius's house, and there was loud music– the kind only Gaius liked, really– and there were lots of people. He had attended a party?

“Yes,” the woman said, as if she'd read his mind, “you were chugging down a bottle when I saw you. Gaius said it was your– what, third?” He snarled. What had Gaius gotten him into this time? He eyed the woman warily. Just who on earth was she? How did she know Gaius?

He had met Gaius at the gym he trained at. The stupid ginger had no idea how to use the equipment there, and had asked him for help. And then followed him around for the rest of the day. And showed up at the gym every week, without fail. He was a pain in the neck, but soon he found himself beginning to become fond of the ginger. Until he pulled this stupid party stunt.

“How, exactly, do you know him? Gaius?” He asked, almost accused. She held up her hands as if in defence. “He went to my high school. Plegia High. Ever heard of it?” He nodded. Gaius was always talking about himself.

She smiled, eyes reflecting nostalgic memories. “Y'know, Gaius got—”

“—kicked out the third month of his sophomore year.” He finished the sentence with her out of reflex, remembering clearly Gaius's complaining about the matter.

She blinked, as if surprised, then laughed, obviously pleased. When he found himself smiling faintly along, he quickly smothered his stupid grin. Who was this woman, and why was he still sitting here, laughing along with her? “Who are you?” He blurted out, no longer able to suppress his curiosity, then winced when the smile on her face completely disappeared. He felt like smacking himself in the head.

“You… really don't remember.” She finally muttered, and it didn't sound like a question. He looked away guiltily. Having completely no memory of someone was very offensive, he imagined. “Oh gods, you were _that_ drunk.”

He grumbled. _Yes_ , he was _that_ drunk. They'd established that already.

“Oh my gods,” she continued, eyes wide in alarm. If anyone should be alarmed, it should've been him. He had no idea what on earth happened. “you were _that_ drunk.” _If she said that one more time_ … He began to speak up, “Yes, I was _that_ drunk. Now–”

“Oh, gods, this doesn't count as rape, does it?”

His breath caught, and his heart dropped to his stomach. _Rape?_ “Rape?” They had– he blanched. He…

“No, no no!” She backpedaled quickly, holding her hands out to him as if to defend herself should he hit her. “I didn't do– I mean, I… _did,_ but, well, I thought– I thought you were… ugh! I thought you were sober!” She buried her face in her hands, and even behind them he could see her face colouring.

He swallowed, trying to take in the information as calmly as he could. Sober? “You saw me drinking. How could you think I was sober?” He asked, and inwardly grimaced at the harsh tone of his voice that he knew must have sounded like he was blaming solely her.

“You don't act drunk when you're drunk, okay?!” She almost yelled in reply. How drunk could one person act, anyway? Did the rotten stench of alcohol in his breath not tip her off? “Plus, I had had a few drinks too and– and I was horny and you looked pretty hot, so—”

“Stop!” He demanded, almost wanting to cover his ears like a child. He felt his face heat up and covered himself with his hands, too, like what she was doing. “That's enough! I've heard enough.” He lost his first time to a woman he had never met before. Outstanding. “I don't even remember any of it,” he heard himself grumble. Did he even _want_ to remember? He was sure he'd been a fumbling mess anyway, drunk or not. Gods, to have had slept with someone and not remember…

“Oh, gods…” the woman continued to mutter. “Here I was, having a good time, then you–” she caught him glaring at her, then averted his eyes guiltily. “No, I'm sorry, it's not your fault, it's just… I– I thought you were having a good time, and… I– I don't know. It _looked_ like you were enjoying it too, and—”

_Enjoying it too?_

She stopped talking when she looked at him– he must've been grimacing– and took his hand. He flinched and immediately withdrew, only to have her hold his hand again. It wasn't entirely unpleasant; her hands were soft, unmarred, and… “ _Please_ don't tell me that was your first time.” She said, almost pleaded, her eyes staring into him almost desperately, searching for affirmation– “Oh, gods. It was, wasn't it?”

_Yes, it was, and you stole it,_ he almost snarled. It wasn't really her fault, now… was it? They both were drunk. She'd said it herself, and… oh, gods. “ _Thank you_ for taking that.” He grumbled, and although he felt like a child, he couldn't help feeling sour about it; he had never imagined himself sleeping with anyone, nor ever getting so attracted to someone as to wish to sleep with them, but– he _knew_ it had to be with someone special, someone that… he actually knew by name.

“I– I'll make it up to you.” She promised, her hands still trapping one of his, and strangely, he could not find the strength nor the motivation to pull his hand away. _Those befuddling emerald eyes_ of hers were still staring at him in genuine guilt and he felt a little sorry about acting like a brat about it. It wasn't entirely her fault…

Suddenly he realised her words, and his breath caught in his throat. He inched away from her warily– a movement she did not fail to notice as she held onto his hand even tighter than before. Under the thick covers, he felt himself begin to sweat. “H-how do you mean, _make it up to me?”_

She blinked, and in that moment he swear he saw _those emerald eyes_ glimmer with an almost sinister spark. He swallowed nervously. “W-what do you mean…” he tried asking again, but found himself trailing off, afraid to even hear the answer.

Although, that glimmer in her eyes already was an answer that was clear as crystal.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Who the hell writes a 5k word smut scene?"
> 
> Ooh! Ooh! Pick me! Pick me!

Sitting in front of the man in her bed, she now began to realise what it was about him that had first caught her eye. He had stood and let his eyes wander with an easy confidence that immediately struck her as _hot_. She'd thought originally that it was just her hormones screaming at her to get some dick from this guy, but interacting with him now– _actually interacting_ with him, not just drunken slurs and vague gestures– she found he _definitely_ was her type. The wild, dark hair, the tall bridge of his nose, his deep, almost brooding voice– not to mention those pecs– _damn_.

She placed her hand down on his chest hesitantly, secretly hungry to feel more of his muscles– what did he do for a living? Was he some sort of rugged laborer, like maybe a foreman? Or did he just work out as a hobby? Because if it _was_ just a hobby, then he seemed pretty into it. The hard muscle all over his toned body made that clear. Her eyes darted to his reddened face when he flinched as she touched him, and she withdrew her hand. Okay, he was definitely not this shy last night. Then again, he was drunk. He made that pretty clear. Still, she wondered just how lightweight this guy was if he couldn't even take _three bottles._

“Um, here,” she cleared her throat. “why don't you sit up–” he followed what she said, resting his back against her headboard, “and I'll do this…” She crawled nearer and she could visibly note the way his chest began to rise and fall more rapidly. She shed the covers unceremoniously– he'd already seen her naked last night anyway, what's the point? Although he _did_ say he didn't remember a thing– and suppressed a smile when he deliberately swung his head to the other side to avoid looking at her. Real gentleman.

“I'm going to pull the blanket off, okay?” She asked– no, _stated_ – softly, as though speaking to a scared kitten. The way his eyes widened in alarm, the semblance was uncanny. “N-no! _What?_ ” His head snapped to look at her and he clutched the blanket as though it were a rope and he was free-falling, and immediately looked away from her again. She smiled in reply, although she was getting impatient. _She_ _wanted that dick again, now._

“You know, we can't have sex if one of us has something covering his genitals–” she stated matter-of-factly, and snickered inwardly when he visibly blanched “– so I'm just going to take this–” she held onto the sheets and looked him in his dark eyes, declaring herself the winner of this battle when he looked away and his grip on her blanket loosened. Slowly she pulled it off him, her eyes trained on _that spot_ as it was slowly exposed, as if she were a child unwrapping a gift during her birthday.

She could almost feel herself quivering in excitement as she stared at his bareness, taking in what she was too drunk to notice last night. He was considerably– unsurprisingly– large, even without an erection, as compared to most of the guys she'd been with. Imagining how long it would be when it was hard, she wondered just how it would fit inside her. She _was_  pretty sensitive. Just the thought of getting his member erect excited her, and pretty soon she got tired of just staring at it and moved her hand toward him, her eyes trained on his face, searching for any hint of a reaction. Would he try to push her away? Or would he encourage her, as he did last night?

Well, only one way to find out.

She grasped the shaft hesitantly and rubbed her index back and forth, the smallest of movements. She bit her lip at the veins that pressed against her palm, already getting worked up. When he grunted, she turned her head up to look at him, but he was not looking at her. He was looking at the window, as if outside was the most important of things. Slightly insulted, she began to rub him slowly, watching him drawing his eyebrows together as if to hide any further reaction. His cock twitched in her hand, but besides that, there was no other response. The man was not getting hard.

Starting to feel more than a little bit miffed, she reached down to her entrance with her free hand and slid her middle finger against the inner lips, already wet just by looking at him– by gods, was he a piece of meat– and shivered. She glanced back at him, and felt her skin burn when she found he _still_ wasn't looking at her. What was wrong with him? There was a perfectly fuckable female naked in front of him, and he was _gazing out a window?_ What, didn't he find her attractive? All her friends always told her she was fairly pretty– even Maribelle, that snooty socialite– and she had a fairly long line of men waiting to court her, and _this guy_ was ignoring her?

No, oh no. She was a woman of immense pride, and she would not stand to be insulted this way. She was a woman whose allures were rarely ignored, and she would not stand to be insulted this way.

Sliding her own finger inside her, she let out a small hiss, closing her eyes as she continued rubbing him, but also fingering herself. His cock last night had felt much better than her own digits, of course, and that fact made her want to jump on him the moment he got hard, but that would have to wait. First, she needed to actually get him hard.

She slid another finger inside herself, and soon she found she was no longer doing this as a ploy to turn him on but just as a way to appease herself, her frustrations presenting themselves to her in the form of arousal, an agitating warmth that was all too familiar beginning to form in her lower body. Her mouth parted open and she heard herself moan lowly, her own wetness starting to slick up the rest of her hand.

In her hand, his cock started to slowly stand to attention, and even without opening her eyes she knew he was looking at her. Proud of her success, she relished the rapid beating of her heart that came from being watched so intensely as she touched herself. Feeling that familiar heat reach up to her stomach, she doubled her efforts, letting another small sigh escape her as her fingers slid in and out of her, until finally she began to see stars, her insides clenching around her fingers, and she screamed out nothing in particular– not a name, not a curse, just a scream, driven by blind pleasure.

Sweating profusely– by the gods, they hadn't even started yet and she was already so messy– she slumped forward, resting her hands on his chest unconsciously. He flinched at her touch, but she could barely register the reaction before she reached for in between his legs, at his cock that was now standing at full attention, ready to give her the real thing. And _oh gods_ was she ready for it.

Realising she had forgotten completely about the man whose dick she was so eager to ride, she looked up at him guiltily, and was rewarded by his handsome face that was flushed about as red as Cordelia's hair. She managed a weak laugh and reached up to touch his cheek with one hand, her palm brushing against a faded scar, and realised it was much too intimate a gesture only after doing so. He flinched again and reached for her hand as if to remove it from his face, but stopped and instead, looked away again. She took a moment to abuse the permission he'd given her to touch him, staring at his face, taking note of all the details of his finely-chiseled face, eager not to forget anything.

She shuffled around to straddle him, his thighs under hers so deliciously toned, her heartbeat speeding as though she hadn't just come, and she watched his face contorted in what seemed to utter humiliation. She'd never been with a man this shy before– not even last night, when he was seemingly another man and had taken charge despite apparently treading on unknown grounds, holding her from behind and thrusting inside her willfully, meeting her loud cries with his low grunts, and– _oh gods_. She shivered, grasping his shaft, unable to take any further delay.

His hands lay limp at his sides, unmoving, and she suspected he really didn't know what on earth to do. He couldn't even meet her eyes. Reaching for his hands, she placed them on either side of her hips, the rough skin catching on her smooth one, although she did not necessarily mind. His grip was hesitant, light, as if he were ready to remove them at any moment, but she placed a hand over one of his, pressing it firmly against her skin, and he flushed ever deeper, although he followed her guidance and gripped her with a better and firmer resolve.

Again holding his length in her hand, she marveled at its rigidness, and bit her lip in delight at the veins that crossed his thick cock. She swiped her thumb across its head, swollen and completely red, and almost giggled in giddiness when he shivered at her touch. He really  _was_ sensitive. Perhaps more so than she was. But then again, that was a given, since this was _technically_ his first time. Technically. The fact that he had no idea what to do made her feel like an older woman– a cougar– having an affair with a younger boy. It felt so _n_ _aughty_.

Positioning his cock at her entrance, she inhaled steadily, trying to calm her beating heart– this wasn't her first time! Why was she so excited?– and she looked to him again for confirmation and a go signal; although she only got a blank grunt and averted eyes in reply. She didn't bother waiting for a better response, though, and planted her hands on his wide shoulders. Without another word, she swiftly pushed herself down on his cock.

Feeling his huge length invading her tight space, she was glad she had taken a breath before having him inside her, because pushing down on his cock knocked the breath out of her lungs– and his too, it seemed, as he gave a sudden gasp and the grip on her hips tightened in surprise. “Oh,” she breathed, fingers curling around his shoulders, secretly loving the hard muscle underneath the skin, “oh, _gods_. Wait, um—”

He was big. _Too big_. It hurt.

His eyebrows drew together, dark eyes studying her in concern. It was the first time he actually looked her in the eye for more than two seconds. “Are… are you alright?”

She forced out a chuckle, then quickly winced when he shifted and she felt him move inside her, scraping against her walls not-so-gently. His cockhead that she found arousing while swollen was not exactly arousing when it was nudging against her cervix. She had felt alright last night. So why was she hurting now? Perhaps she was just too drunk to care last night. “Um—” she laughed again, “sorry, it's just– um, you're big.”

“I— I'm sorry.” He choked out, as if it was his fault the gods had blessed him with a deliciously large dick, and he gripped her hips tighter, starting to pull away, as if to pull out of her, and she rushed to remedy her words. _He was not getting away without satisfying her_. “No! N-no, it's fine. It's fine, just... just let me…”

She held onto his arms to keep him there and for balance, and shifted around slowly, steadily adjusting to the feel of him inside her. His face was burning a bright red, but he did not anymore try to stop her, instead watching curiously as if watching a little insect go about its business. She watched him watch her with an air of almost mystified attentiveness, like he was studying her and her curious actions intensively, and she felt her neck begin to grow hot at being watched so closely. Soon she deemed herself relaxed enough to finally get to business, and she looked to him again for any sign he wished for her to continue.

He didn't say a thing, only stared back at her with a confused expression– gods, he really didn't know what was going on, did he?– and she took that as a cue to start. Lifting herself up, she closed her eyes in anticipation for the sensations, and quickly brought herself down again. “ _Hnngh_ –” A wave of heat ripped through her body, and she gritted her teeth to regain focus, his cock filling her up without a shred of mercy, and pulled herself up again.

She rode him like that, each time his cock was hilted inside her she let out a moan that was half-muffled by her gritted teeth, his hands on her hips gripping tighter with each stroke. His formidable length was absolutely addicting, her velvet walls lovingly clinging to it as she repeatedly slid all the way down until she was fully seated in his lap, a high-pitched whine forcing its way out of her mouth each time, and she dragged herself back up again only to immediately crave for that sweet feeling of his cock buried all the way inside her cunt.

He remained perfectly still beneath her, unsure what to do, except for the occasional, low groan from his throat that came from watching her hips rolling as she moved on his lap, his nails unintentionally biting into her skin with each time he was perfectly sheathed inside her, the wetness squeezing his throbbing cock eagerly, and soon he could not contain the groans from his throat and his head lolled back to rest against the headboard, lips parting to let out a curse. “ _Hnngh– gods…!_ ”

His mind thoroughly clouded by the several sensations on his body– the walls of her cunt tightening around him; hands squeezing into his shoulders; frequent moans filling the bedroom– he did not anymore know what to do and what not to do, and he let his instincts take over– letting his body do what felt best for him– as his hips rocked forward, meeting her movements. He saw her eyes open in amazement, staring into his and nearly fluttering close every time he thrusted to meet her, and he bit his lip to stifle a growl when she parted her lips, letting out a moan as she continued to drag herself up and down his cock, his eyes trained on those cherry lips that constantly moved to gift him with the sweetest of sounds.

 _As if having a monster cock isn't enough of a blessing, he also has the sexiest of expressions_ , she dazedly thought to herself as she stared at his hooded eyes that flitted to hers every once in a while. She wanted those eyes only on her. Her world revolved around him; the low, masculine rumbles from deep in his chest, his chapped lips that were parted only slightly to let out a short huff every once in a while– oh _gods_ did she want to taste those lips– and the heavenly thrusting of his cock deep into her core, prying impassioned mewls from her mouth each time she rocked onto him and was met by his thick girth that he unwaveringly forced deep inside her, his veins filling up every ridge and sending shocks down her spine.

“Oh, _gods!_ ” She screamed suddenly, her vision failing her for a moment, her head crashing down into his shoulder as she sucked in a desperate breath, digging her nails into the muscle in his chest. “ _There_ ,” she nearly whimpered, “there, please.” _Oh, gods, he was so thick and he was so deep inside her and he had just straight-up pommeled into her sweet_ – “ _Please!”_ She cried again when he did not move, his grip on her hips loosening as if he were about to let go. She turned her head to face his warm neck, and breathed into his skin, “Please, _there_.”

When he still did not react, she bit her lip to keep from screaming again– _gods, please, do me right there_ – and she pulled away, feeling a twinge of guilt when he flinched at the glare she shot at him. His face was completely red, his eyebrows drawn together tightly, and his loose grip alone made it clear that he hadn't an idea what she was trying to tell him. She bit back a growl– the poor guy probably hadn't even heard of a sweet spot before.

Gripping his shoulders like a lifeline, she tried to ease herself further down his cock, moaning at the beam of pleasure that ripped its way through her body when his cockhead pushed against her sweet spot. _Oh, gods, he was so deep inside her and_ — “ _Hnngh, please…_ ” she groaned, eyes finally fluttering close as she grinded impatiently against his rigid length, a tight pressure beginning to knot in her stomach. “Oh, g-gods, _please_ …” _Please. She needed more. So much more. She needed_ him.

With the swollen tip of his member nudging against _that place_ , she buried her face in the crook of his neck, brushing aside the fact that this man was a complete stranger in favour of feeling more of him, of the hard muscle beneath his pale, white skin, of the ragged breaths from his throat, and of that _euphoric sensation_ that his cock was lavishing her body, ripples of delight forcing whimpers out of her mouth.

“Oh, gods, p-please…” She gasped against his beautiful skin, a great anticipation making her legs quiver— she was _so close_ …! She nearly melted when she heard him drag in a broken breath, trying in vain to push his cock further inside her although he already was hilt deep. The desperate grinding of their hips together almost pushed her right off the edge, but she held on, moaning in exertion as she struggled to bring him to his orgasm, shamelessly trying to locate the telltale signs of a climax– twitching hands, arching back, and rough groans– she pulled away to watch his expression, cheeks ruddy, his eyebrows drawn tight together as sweat trailed down his chin, his wild hair matted to his forehead, and eyes closed in ecstacy, his curved eyelashes that seemed longer than hers framing his beautiful skin almost like art. He parted those thin lips as he let out quiet, subdued moans.

No longer able to stop herself, she leaned forward, capturing _those lips_ in a sloppy kiss, hands curling into his powerful chest at the shock of pleasure that ran through her body, the walls of her cunt contracting desperately around his cock. _Not yet, oh gods, just a little bit more…_ His rough-skinned hands reached up to hold her face too tenderly, and she jerked, finally giving in to only him. There was only his chapped lips that tasted faintly of beer, his callused hands that grasped her face lovingly, his restrained grunts that made her curl her toes in delight, and his cock— his _cock_ that was caressing her sweet spot none-too-gently— and she broke, her screams eagerly being lapped up by his greedy tongue as her cunt squeezed around his girth in lustful need for him to release, for his cum to fill her up, for—

He grunted into her mouth– her lips were almost too soft, too moist, and she was vaguely spicy, like a sprinkle of cinnamon– and jerked forward, mind going blank at her slick walls lasciviously clamping down on his aching length, wave after wave of pleasure stealing the air from his lungs, and he shattered. His head was thrown back against the headboard, gasping hard as he released inside her, his hands gripping her face– too warm, too smooth, too _perfect_ – her warmth and wetness more than enough to sate him, and he melted at the little gasps that fell from her mouth as his cock twitched inside her, filling her up with his seed and showering them both in an afterglow of cool relief.

He finally lay limp against the headboard, panting hard, followed by her now sweaty body coming to settle comfortably against his chest, she resting her forehead on his, eyes closed; they fit together almost too perfectly, in fact, like two neighbouring pieces from a jigsaw puzzle. The thought made his head buzz, although not much later he realised how personal it was to be holding her face, and he let go, albeit hesitantly, his fingers tingling at the warmth her flushed cheeks had imparted to him. His hands hovered above her form for a time, deciding where he should put them– he'd quickly learned she did not like them to be laying uselessly– when she reached up to wrap both slender arms around his neck, adjusting so that she had her face resting against his neck. Following her lead, he put his hand on her back, secretly admiring the smooth skin over her tanned frame.

They both lay in a stunned silence for a while, the room that once was filled with broken gasps and desperate moans now quiet, save for the peaceful chirping of the birds outside. Her breath on his skin was warm– too warm, almost burning, as was his chest from the exertion. His heart beat rebelliously and he struggled to catch his breath. He'd done more strenuous tasks, no doubt, but nothing before had him so breathless and yet so satisfied. The thoughts made him smile faintly, in a smug sort of way, and when he realised that he touched his fingers to his mouth– where she'd kissed him so brazenly and had left him dizzy. His first kiss. _Of course_ it had to be taken by this stranger, as well. He'd never thought kisses could be exhilarating, and he also had never been so wrong.

A cellphone on the bedside table– hers, no doubt– tweeted a short tune, and he snuck a peek at it when she did not move to check it.

 _**Lissa** _  
_Where are you??? Youre SOO late! Fredericks gonna be like soooo mad! Omigosh are you still asleep?? i told you you shouldnt have gone to that party_

On the contrary, Lon'qu was quite glad she had gone to the party, and that she saw him when she did, although he never would admit that. He glanced back down at her naked form guiltily– now that he was no longer terrified out of his mind nor busy trying not to orgasm too early, he could take a look at her without turning completely red– she had work, clearly. And she was here, lying with him, becoming even more and more late by the minute.

“Um—” He cleared his throat. “don't you have work? You, um, received a text.” He winced when he realised that made it sound like he had checked her phone– which, of course, he did. She did not seemed at all alarmed, however, and instead her embrace tightened, as if trying to convince him to stay. _He would stay as long as he could, drowning in the smoothness of her skin_. “I don't work,” she replied, her voice drowsy and muffled against his skin, “I'm a student.”

He began to panic. _Student?! She couldn't be a student,_ he was much too old for— “Er, how old are you?”

She laughed, soft and her breaths hot against his neck. “I'm 22. In college.” He began to breathe a sigh of relief. College, of course. He hadn't slept with a minor. _Thank gods._ Although the _skills_ she'd put on show for him could hardly be considered appropriate for someone innocent. “You?” She shuffled around so she could again lie against his side, and he dragged the blanket back up to their chests, although it did not make much difference, as he already was warm from his nose down to the tips of his toes, thanks to her touches. “25,” he replied. She chuckled softly. “I know. I meant where do you study?”

“I don't. I work.” _Although clearly you are already much richer than I am_. Her place looked much more posh than his apartment, her bedroom already the size of his kitchen. _College kids and their rich parents._ A good number of thick, hard-bound books in foreign languages lined her workdesk. She was smart, too, although he was not surprised. There clearly was more to _those emerald eyes_ than confounding allure. “Where do you work?”

He looked away, out the window, noting the identical high-rises across hers, wondering where he was, exactly, at the moment. So, a condominium? “Feroxi Arena.” He answered almost automatically, with a hint of pride in his tone. Basilio's arena was the most popular around town. Kingpins from different industries were always coming in, their pockets more than ready to be emptied to watch the matches. “Right beside—”

“– Regna Gym, right?” She finished, eyebrows raised in slight astonishment. That's right; even college kids knew of Basilio's arena. He nodded. “So, um, what do you do there?” He looked away again, glancing at a sort of emblem shining on one of the high-rises across from hers. _Ylisstol Residences_. One of the most expensive places around Ylisse. Of course. “I'm a boxer.”

“Oooh.” She cooed in faint amazement, trailing a slender finger down his arm. He shivered at her touch– and played it off with a cough, curling his toes uncomfortably beneath the covers. “No wonder you're so ripped.” He blushed slightly– Gaius had also earlier on commented on his physique, although that remark came from envy and did not prompt from him the same reaction as now. “Vaike from the municipal arena came to challenge your Ferox, right?”

He was surprised at the sudden change of topic– he was still welling with an abashed pride at her compliment– and looked to her curiously, finding the way her eyebrows arched merely an innocent farce. She was trying to coax from him details of his life without actually having to ask them. Very well, then. No harm in a little story-telling.

He nodded, although slightly surprised she knew about the matter. It was big news to everyone in the arena– Vaike was said to be an undefeated fighter, strong enough to be branded titleholder in the Ylisse arena. A good number of people had come to watch the match. He turned to her. “Were you there?,” feeling slightly self-conscious. If she were there at the time…

She shook her head. “Nah. I was studying. Exams the next week. But a lot of people were talking about it. Who won the match, again? I heard he was completely pulverised against Ferox's champion, some guy named—”

“Lon'qu.” He completed, abashment colouring his face. She had no idea she'd slept with him—? Of course, not that he was _that_ conceited to think everyone knew him, but— his promotion posters were  _all over_ Ylisse. He'd even thought originally that this woman chose to sleep with him specifically because he was  _Lon'qu._

“Oh, _gods_.” She muttered. “That's you, isn't it?  _You're_ Lon'qu?” The demure red on his cheeks made it obvious— gods, she'd slept with a boxer! A titleholder, at that! Her friends were going to go _crazy_ with envy— “How did you _not_ know it was me? Did you not ask for my name?” He said, although it sounded like he was shaming her, and she flushed at her own carelessness. “Well, no—”

“You slept with a man whose name you did not know?” He asked, although it did not sound like a question at all. She resisted the urge to turn her face away in shame. And here she was thinking she had just picked up some poor loner– albeit hot, she admitted– to give him a good time… Who knew she had been picking up a renowned athlete? Although with his looks, he could very well have been a model, as well. “You did, as well.” She retorted, and almost laughed at the confused look he gave her. “You slept with a woman whose name you don't know.”

The realisation made him colour– well, she wasn't wrong, he did indeed not know her name. And he did indeed sleep with her nonetheless. And, shamefully, he did indeed enjoy it rather well.

Having lost the argument, he merely looked away, out the window again and shut his mouth, neck growing hot in shame at the red that had begun to spread from his cheeks all the way down to his chest as she lay back beside him, pressing herself close against his side as he finally relented and let her rest her head against his shoulder, her dark hair soft as silk against him. He wrapped an arm around her back; her skin was smooth, perfectly so, he noted for what seemed like the hundredth time that day, and he wished to rub over her back, to feel more of her flesh, although he managed to restrain himself.

“Um—” He glanced back down at her and averted his eyes quickly when he found she was looking at him with faint amusement, “your classes?” She smiled against his skin and closed her eyes, as if preparing to sleep. She had wonderful, curved eyelashes, the kind that he imagined seemed faerie-like whenever she blinked. “Nah. I think I'm staying here; make sure you don't forget me again when you wake up.”

The remark made him part his lips in a breathy laugh. He may not know her name, but he already knew for sure he would not– he _could not_ – forget her; this woman with _those emerald eyes._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Idk why I dragged out the after-sex conversation but I guess I just want to explore the AU a little bit more? Idk. Anyway, thanks for reading and leave a comment!


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